Author Jonathan Chaves When a wax candle burns down, ashes are left behind;when paper money floats away, it merges with the dust.I seem to recall that the Buddhists speak about Three Births:my son's karma was hardly used up—perhaps he will return! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments